


Take A Slice

by Lancelee (ashleeforreal)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, rated teen for potty words and some good ol' UST, theres some smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 09:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12166023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleeforreal/pseuds/Lancelee
Summary: Lance let out an ugly snorting noise turning on a heel and strutting back to his friend with a flippant hand over his shoulder. “I thought I should teach you a lesson in not being a prick. It’s on the house.”Keith once again found his eyes following those legs as they strode away, only feeling slightly guilty as he watched him walk off.





	Take A Slice

**Author's Note:**

> please listen to Take A Slice by Glass Animals
> 
> I wrote this in like an hour while listening to that song on repeat so don't judge me if this is bad and I regret it in the morning

Keith looked intimidating to most people. He tended to wear combat boots that were the kind people going into the military bought, thick soled and steel toed that corrected even his casual stride into an upright step. Most of the time he was wearing a pair of black aviators that made anyone in his presence nervous from not knowing what his expression truly was. He might not have been that tall, but it was plain to see he had muscle and the look on his face screamed that he might knock you out for saying the wrong thing. Or at least, most people thought he would - he was pretty in an pressuring kind of way that created an intense atmosphere around him that left no room for mundane interactions. If you were going to talk to Keith Park, you’d better have a damn good reason.

 

Keith didn’t have a lot of friends and he liked it that way. As far as he was concerned, his brother, his brother’s girlfriend, and Pidge were all he really needed around. Most people either got too intimidated by his personality to stick around, or they thought he was just some standoffish asshole. And that was fine, because he kind of was one.

 

In between his classes on campus, he’d often hang around the front of the English building and smoke, or just sit down at a picnic table out front and do homework or people watch. At first he’d only come here because the English building was kind of out of the way from all of the others on his campus, but then he’d gotten a better reason to keep coming back. He’d been leaning against the wall by the door on the side of the building smoking, and while he had been a respectable distance from the door, a slight breeze had kicked up and apparently blown some of the smoke down towards the door. People had noticed, but one glance at Keith and most just jetted off without mentioning it.

 

Key words being  _ most people _ .

 

Lance Juárez never has been and never will be  _ most people _ , and Keith knew that from the moment he heard that smooth voice yell, “Hey, asshole!” and felt one of those hands with the long and spindly piano fingers rip his cigarette from his hand and drop it to the ground, a sneaker immediately crushing it when Keith’s eyes followed it to the ground. This is the part where Keith usually got mad and said something back that made sure the person knew just how Keith felt about anyone touching his shit, but he’d miscalculated what a mistake letting his eyes fall to the ground. In order to look at this prick’s face, Keith’s gaze had to travel past miles of exposed skin first, and he simply wasn’t strong enough not to indulge himself.

 

His eyes helplessly drank in the sight of the calf still tensed from stomping his cigarette into the ground, leading up past the bend of a knee to a taut thigh with muscles pulling tight beneath tan skin, before it finally ended at a pair of shorts that should honestly have been illegal. He’d been taking all of it in too long, apparently, as those fingers were back and snapping out a quick staccato too close to his sunglasses for comfort.

 

“- eyes are up here. Are you listening to me?” Long Legs demanded, and Keith finally put a stamp on his death sentence when he looked at the face to match those legs.

 

High cheekbones and a frown that looked more like a pout with pair of thin black rings in snakebites on both sides of his bottom lip, and deep blue eyes behind a pair of thick-framed wayfarer glasses with  _ actual _ rose colored lenses. Keith lost his train of thought again for a few seconds wondering where the hell this guy had found his glasses, before his annoyance at being interrupted came back. He didn’t care how pretty this boy was.  _ Nobody _ touches Keith’s shit.

 

“I was busy trying to figure out what made you think you had the right to do that,” Keith snapped. “What’s your problem?”

 

That pouty frown twisted into a sneer, the lip rings setting it off with more bite than someone else might manage. Keith felt something stir in the bottom of his stomach at the expression, but at that moment he couldn’t tell if it was an intense irritation or some kind of warped form of arousal. He did his best to keep his eyes on Long Legs’s pretty face and not those legs that promised to haunt Keith’s daydreams for weeks.

 

“Listen, asshole, I don’t care if you smoke, I do too, but -” here Long Legs hooked a thumb over his shoulder at a big guy who looked increasingly nervous the longer Keith talked to his friend, “- Hunk over here hates the smell and it gives him a headache just to get a whiff of it. If you’re gonna smoke, go somewhere else.”

 

“Lance,” apparently Hunk quavered, reaching out a placating hand, “it’s not a big deal, leave him alone.”

 

Long Legs, now known as Lance, crossed his arms over his shoulder and barely glanced back at his friend’s voice, instead choosing to narrow his eyes into slits at Keith through those pink lenses. “No, this guy needs to know that he’s being a dick and that just because other people are scared to talk to him it doesn’t mean no one will call out his shit,” Lance objected.

 

Keith felt himself start really glaring back, even though this Lance guy probably couldn’t see it through his shades. The thought is what counts. “I do this here all the time and it’s never been a problem before. I’m sorry if it got over there today, I’ll move, whatever, but you could have just  _ told me to move _ instead of taking my stuff.”

 

Lance let out an ugly snorting noise turning on a heel and strutting back to his friend with a flippant hand over his shoulder. “I thought I should teach you a lesson in not being a prick. It’s on the house.”

 

Keith once again found his eyes following those legs as they strode away, only feeling slightly guilty as he watched the two walk off.

 

~

 

After that Keith found himself drawn back to the same place on the days when his schedule allowed it, whenever he knew Lance was leaving his class. For a few weeks they didn’t interact, Keith just watched from a distance at the picnic table and followed those pink lenses when they looked towards him. Lance would eye him skeptically whenever he saw Keith smoking within a 20 foot radius of the door. But then the fated day happened, when Lance had just taken the exam in the class he had in the English building and hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. He was stressed and tired and he just needed to bum a cigarette off Keith.

 

As soon as he’d asked, glasses off and the dark bags under his eyes fully exposed, Keith had just pulled one out for him wordlessly and offered up his lighter.

 

“Thanks,” Lance had sighed, flipping it open and lighting up. He inhaled like it was his dying breath, and he flipped the lighter closed at the same time that he exhaled. His whole chest deflated with what felt like part of his soul escaping through his mouth. Keith wished he was the smoke pouring past those lip rings, but he would never say that out loud.

 

He took his lighter back and watched with rapt attention as Lance propped a thigh up at the end of the table, only half sitting down while the other leg stretched out like a peep show to the ground. Keith had never been more thankful for the fact that you couldn’t see his eyes behind these lenses.

 

“That bad?” Keith asked.

 

Lance just let out a distressed whine, and Keith stopped the train of thought that noise brought up before it could even start. After a few moments, Lance deemed him with a proper response, a quiet and scratchy “yeah” eeked out. Lance winced to himself, like the confirmation out loud that he hadn’t done that well hurt to think about.

 

Keith glanced between the book in his hands and Lance’s outstretched leg a couple times, and before he could stop it, he’d already given a thoughtless reply.

 

“I mean, even if you fail, with legs like that you could probably be a model instead,” Keith blurted out.

 

Lance didn’t react for a few seconds, but then his eyes got wide and his head swiveled down in Keith’s direction. “My legs?” Lance prompted, voice confused.

 

“Uh, yeah,” Keith responded, and since his brain-to-mouth filter was apparently on the fritz, he continued, “You can’t tell me that’s the first time someone’s told you that. Even with your shitty personality and habit of being an asshole to strangers, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

 

Lance had a dark blush that went all the way up to his ears, and he made another one of his little noises, but this time it sounded kind of excited as he took another drag and turned away for a few seconds to gather his thoughts. When he finally looked at Keith again, he had a smirk on his face.

 

“Is that why you couldn’t pay attention at first when I took your cigarette?”

 

Keith was the one blushing now, but they did live near the coast, and he blamed it on the heat and humidity. That irritation-arousal mixture was back at a boiling temperature in his gut. “Maybe.”

 

Lance’s grin looked like a shark’s as his eyes traced all over Keith quickly, and even with the bags underneath they were still that dizzying shade of blue that made Keith lose his thought process.

 

“What’s your name, anyway?” Lance asked, leaning over the table and slightly into Keith’s space.

 

“Keith,” he replied, trying not to look at how Lance’s shirt had ridden up with the angle he was bent at. He had enough problems paying attention as it was. 

 

Lance chuckled, and brought the cigarette to his mouth one more time, blowing the smoke back out in Keith’s face playfully before tapping Keith’s bottom lip with a finger. Keith opened his mouth in response, everything happening too quickly for him to follow.

 

Next thing he knew Lance’s cigarette was between his lips and his sunglasses were scooped off of his face, instead resting on top of Lance’s head like a headband. Lance hopped off the table and started backing away from the table with a loping gait that seemed to invite a chase.

  
“Buy me a coffee,  _ Keith _ ,” Lance crooned, slowly getting farther away, “and I might consider giving these back.” With that, Lance used a finger to tip the aviators down onto his nose so that now only his teasing grin showed. He crooked a finger when Keith failed to react, and it was like a tether, and then Keith had shoved his book into his bag and was following Lance with a matching grin, cigarette falling to the ground on his way after those baby blue jean shorts and lip rings to see if he could get a taste of more than just what had lingered behind Lance’s mouth on the end.


End file.
